To Adopt a Boy
by Liefe Black
Summary: AU. What if Tom Riddle Jr. had an Aunt? What if Tom Riddle Sr. wasn't a complete jerk? What if all Tom needed was a little love?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: feedback please!**

**Nicole Miller is an OC, as is the baby in her stomach ;D**

December 15, 1936 – Tom Riddle is almost eight years old

A small boy sat on his bed in a small blustery room he shared with two others. The orphanage was not well heated, and their room got bitterly cold during the winter. Now however, Tom did not feel the cold as he sat perched on his bed, kicking his legs impatiently. His mind whirled with confusion as he waited for Mrs. Cole's call. He flopped backwards, tugging at his shirt collar. He had struggled to do up the buttons correctly, feeling immensely proud when he finally succeeded. Now, the collar felt constricting as lump of anticipation built in his throat.

He couldn't believe that today, after _years_ of waiting, someone was coming to see him, and maybe even take him home with them. The thought sent little shivers of joy down his spine, as that had been Tom's dearest wish for as long as he could remember. His mother had died soon after he was born, and for some reason, his father had never come to find him. He had lived in this grim building all his life, and although Mrs. Cole was very kind, and took good care of him, the blankets were somewhat threadbare and the soupy watery. More than anything though, Tom wanted a mother and a father all his own, parents that wanted Tom for his own sake, not for the welfare money they would receive. Twice Tom had been 'adopted', but both times he brought back by the terrified couples, shaking, desperate to be rid of him, and bearing complaints of freakishness.

He had long dreamed of an aunt or an uncle showing up one day, asking for their dear nephew Tom. He longed for someone to love him unconditionally and not for the money, who would hug him when he had nightmares and would keep the bigger boys from picking on him. For a kind, pretty Mummy and a strong, handsome Daddy. So when Mrs. Cole told him that his aunt was coming to see him today, Tom had been understandably excited.

"Tom!" Mrs. Cole called up the stairs, "Your aunt is here!" Tom sat up quickly and tried to flatten his rumpled hair and nervously straightened his now-wrinkled sweater. He scurried out of his room and down the hall, ignoring the angry glares for the other children. They just wish someone was coming to see them, he thought as he took the stairs by twos. Mrs. Cole was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her graying brown hair pulled tightly back in a bun, her hands on her wide hips over the dark grey wool of drab dress. She clucked her tongue at his disheveled appearance.

"Come dearie," she said, smoothing his hair, and pulling the hem of his sweater out of his clenched fist. "She's waiting in the parlor." Tom had never been in the parlor before, and it was a cozy room, if cramped, and filled with somewhat battered looking furniture and fake lace doilies. Tom followed Mrs. Cole over to a comfy-looking couch where a woman sat, smiling at him gently. She was wearing a black wool skirt that fell to mid-calf, a square necked cream colored blouse, and a black cardigan with cream detailing at the cuffs and neckline. There was a long overcoat on the hat tree beside the door. He returned her smile before ducking his head to look at his feet. _She's so pretty, _he thought _what does she want me for? _He flashed a quick glance in her direction, saw that she was studying him curiously, and swiftly looked away. _Maybe she doesn't want me __anyway, _he thought despondently, and he began to fidget.

"Miss Miller, may I present to you your nephew, Thomas Marvolo Riddle? Tom, say 'Good afternoon' to your aunt." Mrs. Cole prompted.

"Good afternoon" Tom said quietly, still looking at the floor.

"Good afternoon, Tom. You are doing well, I presume?" Nicole said, watching him as he fidgeted. He was small for his age, she surmised. He looked to be five or six, though she knew his eighth birthday to be two weeks away. Surprisingly, he was tow-headed, **(A/N : not sure what his actual hair color was, it was dark brown in the movies and ****plain brown in the books, but I've heard that children grow ****out of tow-headed-ness, so his hair will become brown soon enough, no worries!)** his hair much lighter than both his father's and his mother's. His eyes were light gray, and shone with an innocence kept carefully guarded within his heart.

"Come, Tom! Don't be shy! Be a good lad and sit down on the chair here." Mrs. Cole seemed slightly bothered by Tom's shyness, and tried to cover it up with a little light conversation, bustling about good naturedly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cole." Nicole said graciously, still watching her 'nephew'.

"Would you like some tea and biscuits, Miss Miller?" Mrs. Cole asked.

"Yes, please. Could you also bring some for Tom, as well?" Nicole replied. Tom looked up when he heard his name, glancing between her and Mrs. Cole.

"Of course." Mrs. Cole said easily "I'll be right back, dearies." She left the room and hurried to the kitchen, leaving the two alone together. Nicole sighed. The poor boy looked so nervous and uncomfortable, and having no children of her own, she didn't really know how to approach him.

"So Tom, why don't you sit down, and I'll tell you about myself." Nicole suggested. Tom sank into the other end of the couch, still not meeting her eyes." My name is Nicole Miller. I am your mother's half-sister. We had the same father but different mothers." She paused, unsure of how much Tom would understand. "My father was brought up to believe that he and his family were better than those of what they called common blood. My mother was, not _good_ enough for him and well… your grandfather was a very _judgmental_ man, and when my mother got pregnant with his child, well, he disappeared and she never saw him again. She raised me on her own, with the assistance of her family, but recently, after my mother's death, I decided that I ought to try and find my father to see if he – and through him, I - had any other family. A few months ago, I found his home, abandoned, in a village called Little Hangleton. I asked around the village and the baker's wife told me quite a bit. That's when I found out that I had a half sister and brother." As Nicole spoke, Tom leaned forward, obviously entranced by her tale.

She continued, "The village women also told me how my sister, your mother that is, had left with the son of a lord and never returned. The man, Thomas Riddle Senior, who is your father – for you _are_ named after him, returned to the village claiming to have been bewitched by your mother, who was never seen again. I went to speak with your father, but he could tell me little of what happened while he was with your mother. He said that he had left her in a poor section of London, which led me to this area. From what I can guess, Merope came here, gave birth to you but tragically, she passed away only hours after your birth." Tom's eyes narrowed with anger as she spoke of his father and filled with tears at the mention of his mother' death.

"I hate being named after him" Tom said. Nicole sighed and rested a gloved hand on the boys shoulder.

"He is not altogether a bad man, your father. He truly believes that Merope bewitched him, for he remembers nothing between stopping at your mother's house for a drink of water on a hot day, and waking up one morning in a destitute part of London beside a woman he did not love. However, though there is no love lost between Thomas and Merope, he truly regrets leaving her, if only for your sake." Tom appeared bewildered.

"It has been quite difficult to find you, dear boy, but your father has been immensely helpful to me during my search for you. I hope that we – you, me, and your father - can get to know each other better over the next few weeks, while I am having my house prepared for the imminent arrival of a young child." Suddenly nervous, she added "That is, if you wish to live with me."

Tom was in shock. It really was a lot of information to take in at one point. "I am afraid that I am a little confused, Ma'am" he said, looking away from her.

"First of all dear, there's no need to call me Ma'am. Aunt Nicole would be preferable. Secondly, don't be worried. Later, presuming that you do come to live with me, I will have the time to explain everything more slowly and in greater detail."

"But what about my father? Can't I live with him?" Nicole sighed.

"It is not as simple as that, Tom. Your father is a very busy man and he is not ready to have a family. He was very young when you were born, and did not go into any of the planning that most people do when they wish to have a child. He has no idea how to care for children, and his mother is in no state to offer him any advice. He has agreed to support me financially if I bring you to Greater Hangleton, which is where he lives, and care for you there in a Manor of middling size that he recently purchased for this express purpose." As Nicole explained, Tom scooted closer to her on the couch.

"However, even if you don't wish to live with me, I will visit you regularly and everything will be sorted out then. Does that help?" Nicole's heart went out to the boy, who was looking at her with excitement and hope shining in his eyes.

"Do you really mean it, Ma'am?" At her look he grimaced. "I mean, Aunt Nicole, do you really want me to come live with you? In your home?"

"Well, where else would you live? In a barn?" Nicole laughed. "Yes, I would like it very much if you would come to live with me. My house is going to be so large and empty with just me in it. I hope to have a large family one day, and you, my dear, are the first step towards that." Nicole's hand settled on her gently bulging stomach.

"And anyways, I am going to have a baby soon, but my husband is dead, and I will need a man in the house to keep me and the baby safe." Nicole teased gently, happy to see the light flush on the boy's otherwise pale face.

"Would you be willing to do that for me, Tom? Will you come live with me?"

The next thing she knew, his thin arms were wrapping around her, carefully avoiding her baby bump, and his face was pressed against her side.

"Yes, yes, I would _love_ to come live with you!" Looking up at her, he said "I've always dreamed of having an aunt who came to the orphanage to take me to live with her! You're like a dream come true!" Tom's eyes were shining, and Nicole pulled him onto her lap, and into a big hug. He sighed and buried his face in her neck. Nicole was absently rubbing circles on his back, when she felt him begin to shake. She didn't know what was happening until she felt his tears falling on her neck. She hugged him closer, trying to convey comfort to the small boy, and he clutched at her neck in return. After a couple minutes his sobs quieted and he pulled back, looking down and rubbing at his eyes, shoulders hunched.

"What's wrong Tommy?" She asked softly, running her fingers through his hair. When he didn't answer, she placed two fingers under his chin and made him look at her. His eyes were puffy and red with tears, and he sniffed a few times.

"Can you tell me what the matter is, sweetheart?"

"It's just... I've wanted a family for such a long time, and now you're here, and you're really my family, and it hurts, just here, in my chest." Tom pressed thin fingers over his heart and Nicole pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before placing him on the couch just to her right and cradling him to her side.

"There's a good boy Tom, chin up."

"So!" Mrs. Cole said loudly, bustling into the room carrying the tea tray. Tom jumped out of Nicole's arms and swiped at his eyes. Nicole flushed slightly, and Mrs. Cole's eyes were somewhat glassy. _She must have heard that whole thing,_ Nicole thought, a little embarrassed. Mrs. Cole set out the teacups and poured hot tea into them.

"Cream? Sugar?" she asked.

"Cream please, Mrs. Cole. And you, Tom? What would you like in your tea?" Nicole replied.

"Um, just some sugar please" he said timidly.

"And a biscuit?"

"Yes please, Mrs. Cole" (Nicole was pleased to note that he had excellent manners.) Tom said, glancing at her, seemingly searching for permission. Nicole inclined her head a little and took a sip of her tea. Tom settled himself next to her, and looking at him, Nicole felt her heart ache. It was clear that he boy did not get enough affection in his life, and although Mrs. Cole was in no way mean or cruel to the children, there was no way she was able to properly care for every child, and a boy like Tom, who was quiet and unassuming, didn't attract enough attention.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to AlexaB, Bigtimer5656, Emerald Evans, and Ruri7533 who favorited/ alerted this fic/me, as well as DamonSalvetorelover, my beloved reviewer.**

**Enjoy!**

24th December, 1936

It had been a week since Aunt Nicole had visited for the first time, and Tom was miserable. He'd not seen her since then, and in the quiet moments, sequestered in his room, he began to think that it had all been a dream. A painfully wonderful dream, one that made his days feel cold and empty without it. Only Mrs. Cole's careless use of his Aunt's name convinced him that it wasn't a figment of his imagination. That or both he and Mrs. Cole had had the same dream.

But now it was late on Christmas Eve – maybe even early on Christmas Day - and Tom was curled on his bed, head hidden under his covers, dried tear streaks on his pale cheeks. Aunt Nicole had promised him, as she pulled on her overcoat, that she would be back – by Christmas Eve at the latest – and would bring someone with her to see him. A surprise, she'd said. But five minutes hence, he'd heard the bells calling for the midnight Mass. She'd _lied_. And he'd trusted her – that hurt more than anything – he'd truly believed her, but where was she now, when he needed her? As if summoned by his angry resentful thought, Tom heard a great clatter in the street as car pulled up outside the orphanage.

As it did every time, Tom's heart leapt into his mouth and he sprang from his bed and to the window, hoping beyond hope that it would be Aunt Nicole seated within. As he stared intently down through the wind-whipped snow, a man in a gray woolen greatcoat – a chauffeur Tom realized, how rich were these people? – stepped smartly from the driver's seat, and opened the back door. He held it open with a bowed head while a tall thin man emerged from the car and turned to help his companion out. Heart thudding loudly, Tom saw a delicate female hand placed in the second man's larger one, and Tom gave out an unheard cry, as Aunt Nicole delicately choose a snow-free spot for her foot and then rose from the car every inch as beautiful as he'd remembered.

Aunt Nicole made for the door of the orphanage straight off, but the second man paused to speak to the chauffeur, who nodded and got back into the car and waited for the two to reemerge. The second man then hurried after Aunt Nicole and caught her just as she reached to ring the doorbell. She spun to face him and they had a quick, quiet conversation, the whole length of which Tom could hardly breathe. Then the man rang the doorbell and Tom shivered in the freezing night air that had been flowing in the cracked-open window. The chime of the doorbell, clear and long and completely picturesque, shook Tom out of his stupor and he started taking gasping, heaving breaths and his low moan echoed around the room as wrapped his arms around his middle and fought to avoid the tears.

Could it _possibly_ be that they – Aunt Nicole and the nameless tall man – had come for him? Gradually, his need to find out what they were at the orphanage for so early on Christmas Day overtook the fear that they weren't here for him. Tom took a couple deep breaths, scrubbed his eyes and sniffled to relieve his stuffed nose. Having won his battle with his tears, Tom rushed to the top of the staircase, where he could hear the voices that came from the parlor. They were indistinct for the most part, but a few words jumped out him.

"Car… Brighton… crowds at Christmas… adoption papers… here… _Obliviate!_"

A long silence.

"Upstairs… Tom… Thank you…"

And the door opened, and Tom jumped up on bare, numb toes, and hurried back into his room and under the covers, closing his eyes and trying to slow his thudding heartbeat. Three pairs of slow footsteps – one light and young, another a little heavier and slower, and a third clearly recognizable as Mrs. Cole's – were coming up the stairs. They then started up the hallway, towards his room, and stopped outside his room.

"Is this it?" The man's voice was deep and somewhat scratchy. In his mind's eye, Tom saw the man rise from the car, unfolding with and angular grace.

"Yes. This is Thomas Riddle's room." Tom's brow furrowed and he quickly smoothed it. But why did Mrs. Cole sound like she didn't know what was happening? And she _never_ referred to him as 'Thomas Riddle'. But before Tom could contemplate further, the conversation started up again.

"Go on, Tom." came Aunt Nicole's voice. The door handle moved slightly as though someone – Tom could only assume it was the man, Tom – had put a hand gingerly on the other side. The door opened slowly, creaking lightly and someone hissed in a breath.

"Oh, God. That's him? My… son? He doesn't look anything like me…" he heard the man whisper. He had said 'my son'. Did that mean that this man was his father? Tom felt slightly delirious, as though it were all a dream, and it was all Tom could do not to open his eyes and just _look_ at his father – to make sure he was real - when Aunt Nicole replied. Behind her he could make out the sounds of Mrs. Cole's footsteps retreating back down the staircase.

"Yes, that's our Tommy. He must have inherited the blonde from Merope's family." Peering through his eyelashes Tom saw her move past the man – his _father_, of all bizarre things – and sit lightly on the side of his bed, still facing Tom's father.

"Merope wasn't blonde." Was all the tall man said.

"In that case he'll grow out of it. He'll look just like you: the facial shape is the same. All he got from Merope was the gray eyes." It was strange to hear people talking about him and his parents together, but it sparked something in Tom's chest to know that he would look like his father someday, but that he could look in the mirror and see his mother's eyes. Tom almost flinched when a soft hand landed on his shoulder and shook gently, but he controlled the impulse at the last second.

"Tommy, love, you need to wake up. It's time to go home." Tom let his eyes flutter open, even as his heart skipped a beat at her words.

"Auntie?" Tom asked not faking the sleepiness in his voice as a huge yawn over took him, brought on by his day-long vigil. He scrubbed at his eyes and sat up slowly, before it really hit him that she was really, _truly_ there, in front of him, arms held open to him, and he buries himself in her embrace. He breathed in her scent, expensive perfume mixed with clean soap and candles. Her jacket buttons were icy against his cheek and the cold had even invaded the soft fabric of her high necked blouse. Her fingertips passed through his hair, also cold but familiar in a distinctly maternal caress, and Tom felt the prickle of tears in his eyes and the easily recognizable ache of holding them back.

"I was afraid you weren't going to come back." He confessed feeling hidden away from his embarrassment in the soft shelter her embrace provided.

"Oh, love." Aunt Nicole sighed, arms squeezing even tighter for a moment, "I'm so sorry I broke my promise. Because it isn't Christmas Eve anymore, is it?" Tom shook his head and she sighed.

"I heard the bells for midnight Mass – that means that its Christmas Day now." Although Tom couldn't see her face in the dark room, he could feel her flinch from his words, and heard her breath hitch.

"But it's alright" he added, snuggling into her. "You're here now."

"Yes, we are, Tom, and I'd like you to meet someone. " Tom stiffened, and Aunt Nicole's hand rubbed soothingly up and down his back, as though counting his vertebrae.

"Meet someone?" Tom asked apprehensively. "Is it… my daddy?" Tom's voice cracked on the last word, and there was a odd, choked sound from behind Aunt Nicole and Tom lifted his head from Aunt Nicole's chest and glanced over her dark clad shoulder to look up at his father for the first time in his life. The light from the hallway shone around him in a way that vaguely reminded Tom of the icons of saints in church, but the stoop to his shoulders and the cant of his head spoke of confusion and longing. Tom could just make out the dark spots that were his eyes and he pulled away from Aunt Nicole and, still looking at his father, Tom held up his arms and said,

"Dad?" his father made that odd choking sound again and took four swift steps across the room to the edge of the bed where Tom was waiting. He swept him up into strong arms clothed with fine wool and pulled him against a narrow chest where he could hear his father's heart beating loudly and quickly beneath his ear. And it was, in a word, the most perfect hug he'd ever had, because it was his _father_ giving it.

The reunited family sat in Tom's room, filled with light after Aunt Nicole had gotten fed up, and had risen from the bed to stalk across the room and flick on the lights. After that she had opened his wardrobe and placed his clothes and stuffed bear into a medium sized, fine leather bag. She was trying to give the father and son a little time to talk, as this was their first meeting. Admittedly, it was only her second, but she suspected that she would get plenty of time to get to know the boy. When she finished with the packing, she crossed to the bed and made it quickly, before sitting down on it and reluctantly interrupted the two others.

"Come Tom, we've got to leave now. Joshua is waiting in the car."

"You're leaving! I thought… I!" Tom's cut himself off, trying to suppress the sob that was building in his throat as hurt and anger and betrayal overtook the warm fuzzy feelings that had been filling him just a minute previously. Distantly, he felt himself shake like a leaf in the wind. He racked his mind for something, anything that he had said or did to make them leave him alone at the orphanage again. All Tom could hear was an odd rushing in his ears and he violently pushed himself away from the arms of his father, who he hated for making him love him so quickly.

Only to stumble into Aunt Nicole, who was still sitting on his bed, and Tom was lifted into her lap, and her voice murmured in his ear soothingly, as Tom, beginning to sob, wound her long hair around one hand. A large, gentle hand, closed reassuringly over his shoulder.

"Shhh, love, it's alright. You've misunderstood; we're not leaving you here! On the contrary, you, Tom, are coming with us back home, to Greater Hangleton." Tom struggled not to believe Aunt Nicole, desperate to prevent their word and actions from hurting him. Still, her words were like balm on the raw mess his heart had turned into. Tom rubbed the back of his hand roughly across his eyes, and sniffled.

"Nicole, let me see him, please." His father voice was so soft, so _loving_ that Tom had choke down another sob. The soft arms around him loosened and the same arms that had lifted him from the bed earlier did so again.

"Daddy." Tom whimpered, the heartbroken tone hitting the older man hard. Tom Sr. pressed a kiss to the top of his son's head and wondered why he hadn't bothered to search for him before now. He'd missed six years and was determined that, even if Tom lived with his sister-in-law - or not, he thought viciously, still bitter over the trickery that had begotten the child he held in his arms, no matter what a miracle the child was – he would be a presence in little Tom's life.

"Tom. You are my son. That's all there is too it. Family is the most important thing, my boy. If you don't have family, you have nothing. For years I refused to admit this to myself, and in doing so, I have failed you as a father. But by no stretch of the imagination does that mean that I do not want to know you, to be with you, alright?" Being able to finally face his biggest failure, and the one most affected by it lifted an enormous weight off his shoulders. But it was the way Tom nodded against his neck and hugged him more tightly that convinced, completely, that this was the right thing to do.

"Let's go down to the car then, Nicole." Receiving a nod of acceptance, Tom Sr. shifted little Tom onto his hip and squeezed him tighter when Nicole ran a careful hand through the light hair so unlike his own. He then stooped to collect the bag of his son's possessions, and passed through the door held open by his sister-in-law just before she shut the lights.

They went down the stairs, through the parlor – grabbing coats as they passed by, and Aunt Nicole called a soft 'farewell' into Mrs. Cole's rooms - and out the front door and into the biting December air, only to slide into the warmth of the car. Mumbled greetings, Joshua, a kind smile from a weather-worn face, soft leather seats and a soft lap to lay his head in and fingers carding through his hair. The soothing motion of a car in movement and a hummed lullaby were the last things Tom remembered.

**A/N: I don't normally write these at the bottom of my fics, but I'm wondering – should Tom live with Tom Sr. or with Aunt Nicole? Review and let me know!**

**Thanks for reading ;D **


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